Cake might not be to everyone's tastes. But once you hear this band, its mariachi-meets-Merle sound sticks in the memory. (Special / Robert McKnight)

Forget all the food references and pastry metaphors. After Saturday’s concert at Birmingham’s WorkPlay soundstage, we probably should compare Cake to a yo-yo.

During this 9 p.m. show, the band’s music pulled you in, pushed you back; pulled you in, pushed you back. It was friendly and inviting, yet kept an ironic distance.

Listen carefully to songs such as “Rock 'N’ Roll Lifestyle,” “Federal Funding,” “Stickshifts and Safetybelts” and “Short Skirt/Long Jacket.” Lyrics written by the group’s prime mover, singer-guitarist John McCrea, swing between the poles of goofy wordplay and biting social commentary.

It’s a strange and interesting balancing act, but then again, Cake always has been a strange and interesting band.

Saturday’s performance drew a varied, sold-out house of fans, many of whom shouted and sang along with Cake during two hourlong sets. No one seemed to mind McCrea’s cheerfully snarky remarks to the crowd; in fact, audience members appeared to revel in them.

Cake had a No. 1 album this week, according to Billboard, but lead singer John McCrea said sales figures made it the smallest No 1 in history. "Cake is all about downsizing and being economical, so we're fine with that," McCrea said.

The band does have a history here, although it’s been nearly nine years since our last Cake show.
In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Cake’s songs were ever-present on radio stations such as WRAX-FM, and the band has played at City Stages, the Alabama Theatre and Five Points South Music Hall.

Not all of those shows were transcendent ones, probably because Cake has the ability to strongly unite a crowd or alienate it just as powerfully. (That yo-yo thing again.)

This WorkPlay date was a goodie, however. Cake showed up right on time, without relying on an opening act, and McCrea quickly assured listeners that “we are here to serve you.”

The five-piece band was perfectly suited to the soundstage set-up (standing room only, just like a festival) and the technical crew had no problem with the acoustics.

Cake must be energized by its just-released album, “Showroom of Compassion,” because songs old and new were delivered with jaunty verve. The set list touched on all six records in the band’s catalog, and didn’t stint on fan favorites such as “The Distance,” “Never There” and “Italian Leather Sofa.”

Although McCrea and Di Fiore were the biggest attention-getters, the rest of the band performed their parts with skill and low-key assurance. (Bass lines from Gabe Nelson were particularly important.)

In its droll and sneaky way, Cake likes to poke fun at rampant consumerism, and the band’s green aesthetic prompted the musicians to build a solar-powered recording studio. Still, who expected McCrea to give away a potted dogwood tree from the stage, quizzing the audience about its variety and warning the lucky winner that she had better take care of it?

We can safely peg this as a first for Birmingham’s concert scene. And it’s just another reason to shake our heads in admiration, marveling at the oddball audacity of Cake.